Playground Affair
by trois heures
Summary: The hero always kisses his true love. And Alfred is definitely a hero...right?


"This is dumb."

Those were the first words out of Alfred's mouth. Arthur frowned. He wasn't too pleased about this either, but that didn't mean he was going to be rude about it.

"I'm 13, I don't go on _playdates_."

Arthur refrained from rolling his eyes, but just barely. Alfred had turned 13 just three days ago. He was barely a year older than Arthur.

"This is dumb." Alfred repeated, scowling at the ground and kicking a stray piece of gravel. The two watched it skitter across the cracked pavement of the parking lot, glad to have an excuse not to look at each other. Once the gravel came to a halt, there was nothing left to distract them and they stood in a tense silence.

_You'll have fun!_ That was the last thing Arthur's mother said as she had shooed him from the car.

_Oh yes, this is loads of fun. _Arthur grumbled to himself. He glanced over at Alfred who had his shoulders hunched, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his shorts.

"I can't believe I'm being forced to go to a _playground _on a Saturday. This is so un-American." Alfred griped, lower lip dangerously close to jutting forward in a full-on pout.

Arthur did have to agree with him there. Well, on the ridiculousness of the playground. He had no opinion as to whether it was "un-American" or not. It _was_ far too hot to be outside all day. Neither of them could understand why their mothers had scheduled this at a playground of all places. Really, they couldn't understand why they'd scheduled it at all. Alfred's mother had insisted it would be good for them to get to know each other, to become friends. Arthur's mother had told him it would be a good way to spend a summer afternoon. But Alfred and Arthur both knew that was a load of crap. They were being dumped at this playground because their mothers wanted a "ladies day out" and this was easier than getting a babysitter and less worrisome than leaving them at home alone. Neither boys were pleased about it, to say the least.

"Bet I can beat you to the slide!" Alfred suddenly cried in such a rush his words blurred together. By the time Arthur even realized what he had said, the boy was halfway across the parking lot, cackling loudly over his shoulder.

"Oi! That's cheating!" Arthur shouted pointlessly, taking off after him. He was fairly certain Alfred knew it was cheating. He wasn't _that_ thick.

Alfred was waiting at the slide when Arthur, flushed and out of breath, arrived. He leaned against it, his lanky body curving in on itself in way he obviously thought was extremely cool. His arms were crossed and he was smirking, looking extremely proud of himself. Arthur once again fought back the urge to roll his eyes.

"Beat ya." He said, an insufferably smug grin spreading from ear to ear.

"You cheated."

Alfred shrugged. "Can't cheat if there's no rules." He countered, voice lilting with imagined superiority. "Besides, I'm the hero, and heroes don't cheat."

Arthur glowered at the woodchip carpet of the playground. He knew heroes, and Alfred was most decidedly _not _one. Heroes were like the princes from his books and movies. They were strong and dashing and kind and they always put their princess first. They would _never _cheat in a race. They would win it fair and square.

Irritated with this affront to the great heroes of his favorite stories, Arthur turned on his heel and stalked off. Alfred called after him, bewildered by his sudden annoyance, but Arthur didn't answer or even acknowledge him. He sat himself at a picnic table, running his fingernail though the grains in the wood. He didn't have to look up to know when Alfred had joined him. The American announced his presence well enough. He plopped himself on the surface of the table next to Arthur and leaned back on his hands, tapping an unsteady beat into the bench with the toes of his worn Chuck Taylor's.

Each of them waited for the other to say something to fill the weighty silence, not sure how to fill it themselves. Arthur bowed forward until his forehead was resting against the uneven tabletop. The minutes seemed to stretch on for hours, the silence growing heavier until Arthur swore he could feel it pushing against his shoulders and pressing his forehead harder against the table.

"Look!" Alfred shouted. Arthur jerked violently at the sudden outburst, forehead smacking against the table. Bristling with irritation, he frowned up at Alfred to see what was so exciting that he thought it necessary to startle him like that. "It must have walked away from your face!" the boy crowed, pointing. Arthur followed the direction of his finger, eyes landing on a large, fuzzy black caterpillar. Under any other circumstances Arthur wouldn't have tolerated such childish teasing, but he was too busy staring at the bug in horror to do anything about it.

When Alfred realized he was getting no reaction from Arthur, he looked down at him, expression one of confusion. "What's the matter? Don't like bugs?"

Arthur shook his head rapidly, leaning away from the table the fuzzy monstrosity was currently sidling across.

If Alfred's behavior so far was anything to go on, Arthur expected to be mocked and mercilessly teased about his fear. He waited for the onslaught, the raucous laughter, but neither came. Instead, Alfred's hand darted out, thumb and forefinger closing around the caterpillar which he promptly tossed away. "There ya go!" he grinned.

"Thank you…" Arthur mumbled shyly.

"No problem!" Alfred's grin dominated his face, scrunching his nose and creasing his blue eyes at the corners.

Silence settled over them, but it was less tense this time. The incident with the caterpillar had created a new kind of understanding between them. They certainly weren't anywhere near becoming best friends or anything like that, but they could at least be considered companionable.

The rest of the afternoon passed relatively smoothly, save for one minor incident at the monkey bars that caused Arthur to refuse to speak for several minutes. Soon the sun is setting and the playground has emptied of squealing children and harried looking parents and everything is strangely quiet and calm. Alfred and Arthur are the only two left except for a teenage couple who are much too preoccupied with each other to notice the two adolescent boys. But the boys notice them, and are made distinctly uncomfortable by their presence. They decide to retreat for the swingset. Arthur perches timidly on a swing while Alfred opts to lean against the frame, shoulders slouching forward and arms crossed.

"I wouldn't kiss someone no matter how much you paid me. Gross!" Alfred declared, pulling an "ew!" face.

"Not even your true love?" Arthur regretted the words the instant they left his mouth. And for good reason. Alfred was looking at him as if he'd just sprouted a third arm.

"True love? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Y-you know…the person you love more than anyone… The person that's meant for you." Arthur grew redder with each word he spoke. Maybe his father was right; maybe he had read one too many fairytales.

Alfred snorted. "That's stupid, sappy, girly stuff."

Arthur looked down and scattered woodchips with the toe of his shoe. "The hero always kisses his true love…"

Alfred frowned. He was obviously at a dilemma; he didn't want to kiss anyone…but he did want to be a hero. "I bet not all heroes do." He replied stubbornly.

"No, they all do." Arthur said with finality. His tone clearly stated that the subject was closed and Alfred sulked at the ground, shoulders curving further.

"Well…I could kiss someone if I _haaad_ to." Alfred groused, brow furrowing.

"Really? I thought you said that was 'stupid girly stuff.'" Arthur challenged. He was going to prove once and for all that Alfred wasn't a true hero. It takes more than glittering eyes and really shiny, soft looking hair to be one.

"But I'm a hero! So I could totally do it even if it was stupid and girly!" Alfred was looking at Arthur now, expression set and determined. He took this hero business very seriously.

Arthur scrunched his nose at Alfred. "I bet you couldn't!"

"Could!"

"Couldn't!"

"Could!"

"Couldn't!"

Alfred had left his post to stand directly in front of Arthur. For intimidation purposes-or so Arthur presumed-Alfred grabbed hold of the chains and loomed forward. The metal jangled beneath his grip and Arthur was pushed back a couple of inches, heels scrapping two small channels into the ground. "Could!" Alfred insisted again.

"Oh yeah? Well then prove it Mr. I'm-so-amazing-becau-"

And then Arthur was promptly cut off by the presence of Alfred's lips against his.

It lasted no more than two seconds. Arthur didn't even have time to react properly before Alfred was pulling away and bolting, face a brilliant shade of red. He was left sitting on the swing, absolutely dumbstruck and seemingly unable to will his limbs to move with a face growing redder and redder as his brain processed what had just happened. His wide eyes fluttered and he brought an unsteady hand up to his lips. They were tingling, an odd sensation he had never experienced before… It was a good kind of odd. A smile stretched, unbidden, across his face until his cheeks ached, but he didn't stop smiling. He couldn't if he wanted to.

Okay, maybe Alfred was a hero.


End file.
